


Fathom

by Mieldyne



Category: Silent Hill (Video Game Series)
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 18:04:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16202783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mieldyne/pseuds/Mieldyne
Summary: Harry kneels down to his daughter’s level, smiles and kisses her forehead as he had before, no matter what deeper feelings he had. She may be a copy, a replacement, and not really Cheryl. But she needs him, and… maybe it’s possible that she's still here somewhere. His and Jodie's little girl.





	Fathom

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pettycoat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pettycoat/gifts).



> Follows the Good+ Ending, where Cybil is saved and Harry is aware of the effects of Aglaophotis and possibly how to get more of it, if he hasn’t thought of taking more from Dr. Kauffman’s bottle. Assuming he believes it’s more Aglaophotis, and actually believes that it will help him somehow.

****It’s 6am.

And Harry finds himself still awake.

He realizes that he’s been doing it again and again. Self-induced insomnia he guesses, forcing himself to stay awake to avoid dreaming. Exhausting himself until he drifts off into a brief, dreamless sleep. Or at least one that he doesn’t even remember once he wakes, either is mighty fine in his eyes. Especially if it helps keep the horrible dreams away this time, then he’ll do it. He even took it to the extreme at times, putting a coffee maker right on his nightstand, plus a couple of empty, coffee-stained mugs next to it. With a groan, he sluggishly rubbed his tired face, wiping over his eyes as he remembers.

It’s been several years since the terrible events that occurred in that town. The things he witnessed and tried to comprehend still stir in his mind from time to time. He never thought of himself to be a terribly strong person, just enough to get by, living a relatively average life. He could give himself credit, he handled himself well, just so he could find his daughter. Harry would have done absolutely anything for her, as at the time she was all he got.

He’d do anything to protect his little girl once again. Even if… whoever this is only wears her face. Over the years he tried to look past it, to not see Alessa and see her as his daughter again. But sometimes, even before she decided to dye her hair and change her clothes, he can’t help but see Cheryl from before, and then eventually just Alessa.

… It’s time to get up. Definitely. The more he lays here and allows himself to slowly slip down to that dark place again, the longer he’ll take to recover from the trauma piercing his heart and mind again. The “original” Cheryl is gone, and he remembers questioning many times if this girl was really her. Yet… he wants to be there for her, has to. This girl has suffered long enough, yet can he actually trust in any of them? Even Alessa? The whole thing is a mess, and Harry’s head already is aching from lack of sleep...

Cheryl… is still his daughter, and he’s still her father. What matters the most, he tells himself as he rises from his inadequate nap, is that he has to put on a brave face again, and be strong so that his daughter can rely on him. Just like normal.

If anything, Cybil is one phone call away in case he needs extra support.That much she promised, as the one other surviving witness to the hell that nearly broke loose to the world.

But, for now, he returns to the daily routine, making sure that Cheryl is up and at’em, fed breakfast and have her backpack filled with her needs during school that day. He’s close yet distant to her, as if he’s afraid of getting _too_ close despite himself. The promises he made are being intercepted by thoughts of distrust and… something more. He is frequently ashamed of himself, as he puts on a smile for his daughter - or at least her doppelganger, possibly - and sends her off out the door.

Harry’s smile almost instantly faults once the little one had her back turned, unaware of what her father, her trusted guardian, was thinking. She’ll never have to know, she doesn’t need that. The traumatized man gazed down at his hands, at all the worn skin, and at the golden band that he still refuses to take off. Even after putting on his bravest face, became some kind of hero even if he wouldn’t call himself that, he was - and still is - very scared. What has been done will be forever with him, haunting him.

And yet...

He will _not_ let that town change him. He reasons with himself that he’s just having an… off day or several. He’s stronger than that. Harry is no Superman, but he damn well try to not let it get to him. Silent Hill is behind him, and now he has to take care of Cheryl, as he follows her to the car once the house is good and locked. As he gets the engine started, once Cheryl is secure in her seat, he makes their way to her school. Via the rear view mirror, he checks on her every so often, watching her nervousness come out from behind all the excitement that she had before. He imagines that this must be the third time _Alessa_ had been through this, whether she is aware of it or not.

But Cheryl has no idea. She’ll hopefully never know.

 

\+     +     +

 

Oh yes. Cheryl was definitely nervous as she was in the life before, and possibly when she was Alessa as well. Luckily, this time around, it’s not in a town with plenty of sketchy behavior and shady characters lurking about. Including her own mother, that woman… was something else. But Dahlia is gone, as is whoever else was in cahoots with her. Once more, Cheryl will have a normal life away from all of that…

Harry kneels down to his daughter’s level, smiles and kisses her forehead as he had before, no matter what deeper feelings he had. She may be a copy, a replacement, and not really Cheryl. But she needs him, and… maybe it’s possible that she's still here somewhere. His and Jodie's little girl. Somehow. He wishes he could erase the thoughts entirely, the doubt, but it’s just so likely that anything could be the truth, after he’s been fed lies. A child who needs her father, no matter how this all came to be, to care for her and love her as much as he can fathom.

“You be good and have fun, alright?” He asks her softly, holding her little hands. Just has he had before.

“I will daddy!” The girl nods eagerly, giving him a smile as she agrees, quickly hugging Harry with enthusiasm and clinging for several seconds.

“I love you.” But she did not say goodbye, as he taught her about the meaning of words. Goodbyes aren’t meant for this, he’ll see her again soon. Goodbyes are long term or even permanent, which is what he had to do to the old Cheryl and to Jodie, his late wife. Maybe even to Cybil as well, since she has a job and a life of her own. Reluctantly, he lets go of his daughter and watch her be filed inside the school building with all the other children.

“See you later.” The man lets out quietly, rising with a short grunt and heads back to his car. It’s only until he gets into it and puts the key into the ignition that he begins to feel off. Paranoia is something that he had to get used to, as even without the cult somehow still being around, there still is other dangers. Kidnappers, murderers, abusers of all kinds, after him, after Cheryl especially… He needs to be aware of his surroundings always, and make sure that she is safe.

When he turns his head, that’s when he realizes that he could be right. Danger may be lurking around every corner, as he stares into the eyes of someone attempting to blend into the parking lot across the street. It’s not the first nor the last time he would be stared at for far too long, even when this mystery man seems to be aware that he’s been caught, carefully driving away in his own car. Could be nothing but Harry’s worrying too much, the guy must have just dropped off his own kid and maybe just happened to catch his eye.

But that man looked familiar. Everything else is new but that man… He had been followed, watched from corners and in the distance. Especially when he’s with his daughter, and it frightened him. Harry usually had good senses, he believes, to tell if someone means well or not, but this man, no matter if he had changed his hair, clothes, or even the car he drives, just was that same phantom possibly out to get them.

Harry wasn’t going to linger too long in the parking lot, thinking about all of this as he makes his way to run errands for the house. It’s getting quite disturbing now, as the man knows Cheryl goes to this school again, despite teaching her not to talk to strangers nor trust them no matter what they say. But he just can’t be cautious enough, he’ll have to stay close.

 

… It may be time to call Ms. Bennett.

 

\+     +     +

 

Since that fateful time in Silent Hill, shadows to him seem to move when they shouldn’t, faces appear where no one else was present. He even thought about keeping more weapons around the house, ready for anything. If there was even anyone left back in that town, they must stuck in that other world, torn up by the forces leaking through from someone’s dreadful nightmare, and the creatures it created. But would that include the baby that he brought back with him that night? Escorted out of the collapsing reality forcing itself to return to the way it was, when it _should be_.

At the very least, the nightmare had fueled him to write something he normally doesn’t, something to subtly warn others of being extra cautious. Basically, his paranoia in written form. But he may never actually publish it, fearful of it being seen as mad ravings of a broken man, no matter how much he polished it.

Which wouldn’t actually be too far off, what he went through is something no man on this planet would have to.

Cheryl is home now, her dear father having picked her up without a hitch and they had dinner just hours earlier. It had taken Harry several minutes of lingering outside of their townhouse to head back inside, lost in his thoughts during that time. The fall, Portland weather was giving him chills even with his sweater on, causing him to button it up. His shoulders shake for a few seconds, quivering off the cold once he’s inside their warmer home. But he doesn’t head for the phone just yet, as he decides some fresh coffee can be had first. Only then, once the pot is slowly brewing, that he would reach for the cordless kitchen phone and dial that familiar number.

It’s been so long since he’s even seen her, the last was when Harry thought it was good to take his daughter out away from the city for a spell. Fresh air for the both of them, and to take a break from forcing himself to write, on top of other things more pressing than that. Since the two were in the area, they paid a visit to Cybil before leaving. Though it’s miles away, he just couldn’t get himself to take even a few steps further towards Silent Hill. Not for the fear of the town itself, but what of little Cheryl… to have her taken from him again?

He sighs hard as his companion’s answering machine picks up, and he decides that it’s best to at least give her a message. He states who he is and leaves his number before he begins, out of habit.

“Hey Cybil. Just calling, wonderin’ how you’re doing. Cheryl and I are doing just fine over here, just started Kindergarten…” And he goes on about their situation and worries  in brief, hoping that the lady wouldn’t be too busy later to call back. Or even be there the next he decides to contact her, since it’s not really an emergency. No need to disturb Cybil at her job, or whatever she’s doing if she’s already clocked out.

Harry hears the kitchen’s coffee maker finish brewing moments after, after he caught himself staring off into a space in the wall. It’s time to get productive, not just passing the time sleeping and mindlessly shuffling about like many times before. He’s got to get back onto schedule, even if the deadline for his next book is far off. Somehow he’s got to get out of his writer’s block, hopefully after he gets some other tasks done. The sink, he notices as he pours a mug, is pristine save for the dishes from dinner. The cleaning was taken care of for the day other than that, so there’s nothing more than relax and make sure that Cheryl gets a good night’s sleep eventually.

Harry lifts the coffee mug to his lips, staring out of the kitchen window and pauses. His brows furrow as he’s suddenly brought back to the outside world again as… on the other side of the street is a figure, possibly _that man_ again. It’s hard to tell in the dark, as the man isn’t near the street lights. Slowly sipping onto the hot liquid, he backs up and away from the window quickly to check the doors and locks. He knows where all the weapons are in the house where he can get to, yet his daughter cannot, and stores unsafe tools and the like from her hands as well.

He’s on alert now, feeling like he did many years ago. It would be crazy to try and go outside now, with this person possibly being a threat. Cheryl is in the living room, watching her favorite cartoons with her rabbit, staring up at her father once he comes for her. Her eyes are innocent and curious, wondering about why her dad is so upset. He’s distressed, as he bends down to pick her up, away from being seen in the kitchen window or any of those in the front, and he hugs her close.

Then, there’s a knock on the door, just as he’s whispering to Cheryl about hiding. She doesn’t understand and there’s just no time to explain.

“Cheryl, just do as I ask, alright? Trust daddy, and be very, very quiet… don’t come out for _anything_ until daddy calls you… okay?” Harry’s voice is but a hush, gently kissing her crown and carefully setting her down.

“Okay…” She is tense, able to tell there’s something wrong even being so young. As the door is knocked on again, he watches as the child makes her way as quietly as possible towards the bedrooms. She nearly crawls up the carpeted stairs, seemingly knowing the hiding place that she will hide. Good.

The door knocks one last time, before Harry Mason approaches and answers it.

But not before quickly getting the handgun from a downstairs locked drawer and slipping it into the back of his waist, hidden with his shirt.

“Ah, sorry to bother you so late at night…” Yes, it’s _quite_ late. He had the audacity to believe that Harry had not noticed him at all. The man is quite young, too. But it didn’t matter, he’s old enough to know what he’s doing, and to know the consequences that come with this.

“... may I use your phone? Car broke down.” A lie, he knows it. But Harry plays cool, and doesn’t deny the request at first. Maybe he’s wrong, maybe his eyes were deceiving him.

Maybe this had nothing to do what had happened five years ago.

“Sure, it’s in the kitchen.” All it took for things to go south is to let the man inside, to turn his back even with just _knowing_ there’s something bad.

“Oh, and one more thing...” It didn’t take too long for him to have a knife nearly in his side, for him to see the tattoo - or a brand, more like - upon the wrist of the young man to realize that Silent Hill has followed them.

“We’re taking Saint Alessa back.” Immediately, even with the door slamming shut and an aggressive cult member - as clumsy as he has been with his work so far - manages to block the way out. Harry reaches for his gun nearly the same time that the youth swings at him again with the dagger, as he is pushed further back during the struggle.

“You know, you’re pretty sloppy for a kidnapper. Who sent you?” He’s damn scared, yes, but he has to do this. He must hide it and be brave as he was before, even with struggling against someone who possibly had known nothing but the cult’s teachings. Brainwashed since day one and deep into the belief system that nearly brought the end of days before. Only this one might not have been there at the site of their “God” and her destruction. The man does not answer him, only snarling as they struggle against one another, the dagger looming overhead. Harry needs to just reach for his gun, but he’ll give the cultist some credit for being able to pin his arm down as soon as that happened.

Harry’s back is to the wall after knocking some furniture and decor around, the threat of being stabbed still high and his arms aching from pushing back. The young man is doing his best to overpower this veteran of nightmares, who had to deal with things worse than a boy just barely out of diapers trying to kill him in his own home. Bet he didn’t expect to have such a struggle as he’s promptly kneed in the stomach and punched

“I don’t want to do this to someone so young… But I will to protect my daughter.” The middle aged man breathes out, observing the hole in his sweater where he was nicked earlier, then back to making his gun live and aiming right at the cultist. While writhing upon the floor, the man in black yells back at Harry, frustrated and coughing as his jaw and middle should be quite sore by now.

“She’s _not_ yours! You stole her from us!” He gets up and tries again, holding onto his weapon tighter and wipes the small amount of blood from his split lip. The cultist now knows just how far Harry is willing to go just to protect his daughter, with the gun pointed right at him. But it doesn’t seem that the cultist really cares, cursing at him for everything, for ruining their chance at creating paradise through their “saint” now.

But he’s heard all of this before, knowing just how crazy the cult was and, now that he’s been made aware, still is. He really _doesn’t_ want to shoot, not wanting to kill a person, a _human being_. Yet sometimes, one must to things that he really doesn’t want to.

Harry wasn’t given the choice, he had to pull the trigger. If he died tonight, Cheryl will be taken and forced into a fate that she was just barely saved from before. He unloads three bullets, two to try and stop the crazed youth - which didn’t work, somehow - and the third to finally kill him. The cultist would have bled out before he could take Cheryl back to that town, but then the girl would be alone either way, with two corpses and no way to get help right away. Scared and lost.

Which is exactly what Cheryl is now, judging by the shrill sounds of a little girl upstairs, the loud sounds starling her and she cried out. Immediately, Harry puts away the gun after putting the safety back on, steps around the dead cultist member and rushes upstairs to tend to Cheryl. She’s crying now once he found her, in his room under the bed just before rushing over to him once he gave ease to her worries.

“Cheryl, it’s daddy… it’s alright.” He soothingly tells her, kneeling down to scoop her up into his arms and hold her protectively. She won’t understand just yet, but she’ll never need to know the true meaning behind the attack. The man simply would have “taken her away”, as he actually would have, but not for any reason she needed to hear. She’s not Alessa anymore, that life isn’t hers.

In that moment, Harry felt a pang in his heart as they both needed each other the most now. This is his daughter, no doubt about it. He already forgave Alessa years ago, even with his doubts and fears, and took the new Cheryl in.

She’s just Cheryl. _His_ and Jodie’s Cheryl. And he loves her so much, cares for her as his own, and will protect her no matter what awaits them in the future, no matter where they go or what they needed to do to hide from the cult.

Always.


End file.
